Chance Encounters
by Davesmom
Summary: COMPLETE! Now a few vignettes. Draco and Ginny share opinions and become friends. Started as a non-romance, just a few minutes in their lives, but the plot (there's a plot) seems to be thickening.
1. Chance Encounters

Disclaimer:  None of it is mine except the plot.  

Notes:  Inspired by the series of vignettes that Liebling is doing with Parvati and Seamus.  I know, this doesn't really qualify as a vignette, but it was the best I could come up with.  Anyway, move your cursor up to that little word that says 'Find', click on it and find Liebling.  Then read her vignettes. She does these so much better than I do.  (Yes, this is a stupid story and doesn't even have the redeeming quality of being a romance.  But Ginny won't go to Brazil like a good girl and I had to write _something._)

"So, what's that you're reading, Weasley?"

Ginny Weasley looked up from the novel she'd been reading to stare suspiciously at the blond boy standing over her.  She quickly straightened from the half-reclining position she'd taken on one of the library's window seats and flashed the cover at him, waiting for the usual male response.

"_'Love's Lost Litany'_?" Draco Malfoy asked, his mouth twisting into a sneer.  "You waste your time on that romance crap?"

"I like it," she replied, settling against the wall once more and brushing a bit of lint from her robe.  "Besides, just because it's romance, doesn't make it crap."

The young man snorted.  "Maybe not, but it doesn't have anything to do with real life, does it?"

Ginny looked around the library, wondering why, of all people, he'd chosen to bother her.  Since they seemed to be the only students in the library at the moment, she found her answer.  Not even the librarian seemed to be about. Sighing, she braced herself for an uncomfortable few minutes.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.  "People fall in love all the time."

With another smirk, Draco leaned down and snatched the book from her hand.  Ginny didn't bother to protest.  He would have his little insult and he would give the book back and wander away, waiting for someone else to bother.  It was just the way he was.  Instead, she crossed her arms and waited. 

Draco flipped to the page the girl had slipped a bookmark into and began to read aloud.  "_'Of course I love you, Priscilla,' Geoffrey cried.  'I shall always love you and do my utmost to make you happy.  I would give you the world if you only asked_" he intoned dramatically.  "_Priscilla sighed and clasped her hands to her bosom, her happiness knowing no bounds…'_"

"Good lord, Weasley, how do you stand it?  Real people don't talk like that!  It's just disgusting."

Ginny shrugged and held her hand out for her book.  Surprisingly, he handed it over.  "I don't really care.  I like it.  Besides, Malfoy, how would you know how lovers talk?  Have you ever been in love?"

He rolled his eyes.  "No, but even if I was, I wouldn't suddenly start spouting that poetic crap.  And if some boy started spewing that drivel to you, you'd probably laugh in his face, wouldn't you, Weasley?"

"I don't know," she admitted.  "I don't seem to be the type to elicit that sort of reaction from a boy."  She waited for him to sneer or agree.  He didn't, which was odd.  Ginny decided to go on.  "But now I'm curious, Malfoy.  If you wanted to tell a girl you loved her, what would you do?  I mean, what is the customary Slytherin expression of affection?"

He raised his eyebrows at her straightforward question.  With a thoughtful frown, he motioned for her to scoot over, then sat down beside her.  

"I don't know about other people," he finally told her.  "I suppose I'd do something like this."

He reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, not very gently.  Ginny didn't quiet gasp, but she did try to pull away.  He was relentless, though.  Tugging her toward him, he looked seriously into her eyes and said, "I love you, right?"

Releasing her, he leaned back.  Ginny frowned at him.  "You're right.  You, at least, are not very romantic.  I suppose as an expression of affection, that rates…"

"You _what?_"

A feminine screech suddenly rent the previously peacefully hushed atmosphere of the library.  Ginny and Draco both turned to see Pansy Parkinson staring at them, her face red and her hands clenched into fists.  

"You can't be serious, Draco!  I thought you and I had an understanding!  Everyone knows!"

The young man stood calmly and looked, almost resignedly at the outraged girl.  "Pansy, the only person who thinks we have an understanding is you.  I told you two years ago that there was nothing between us.  Now, what I said to Weasley was—"

He got no further.  "I don't care what you said to her!  You couldn't have meant it!  I know you didn't!  She's--she's a bloody Gryffindor, for the lord's sake!"   

Draco looked mildly disgusted while Ginny just felt a bit amused.  She wondered how Malfoy was going to get himself out of this mess but he didn't bother trying to disillusion the irate Slytherin girl again.  Now Ginny stood, wanting to nip this misunderstanding in the bud.  "Look, Parkinson, it's not--,"

"Shut up, you conniving little bitch!" Pansy snapped.  "I still don't believe it!"

"Now, just a second, you pug-faced--," Ginny began, but Pansy cut her off again.

"If you really meant it," she said, turning from Draco to glare at Ginny.  "Then kiss her, and prove it!"

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Ginny demanded.  

She would have just stormed away, but Malfoy turned to her, a sly grin on his face.  

 "Fine," he said suddenly, pulling Ginny to face him.  "If that's what Pansy wants, then, by all means, Weasley, let's prove it!"  

Ginny's eyes widened as she realized what he meant, but she couldn't help returning the evil grin when she heard Parkinson's gasp of outrage.  Then Draco pulled her closer and lowered his mouth to hers.  Getting into the game, Ginny stood on her toes and placed her hands on his shoulders. 

"NO!" Pansy shrieked.  "NO, NO, NO!" 

Ginny heard the girl run away, sobbing, and felt her mouth move into a wide smile.  She could feel Malfoy's mouth smiling as well.  He hadn't really kissed her, he'd only pressed his lips to hers.  But from where Parkinson had been standing, it had probably looked quite real.  Sudden laughter bubbled up, and Ginny pushed away before bursting out with a definitely not-very-nice chuckle.  

"You are _sooo_ evil, Malfoy!" she accused, her eyes dancing.  "That was _brilliant!_"

He was still grinning slyly, his own eyes bright and amused.  "I was rather good, wasn't I?" he said.

"You're not the least bit vain, then, are you?" she teased.

He shrugged and gave her one of his best smirks.  "And why shouldn't I be?  I'm good-looking, smart, and, according to you, brilliantly evil.  I think I deserve a bit of vanity, don't you?"

Ginny was still chuckling.  "If you're so smart, what are you going to do when she gets those gits Crabbe and Goyle to smash that pretty face of yours?"

He waved it away.  "They wouldn't dare.  Anyway, they detest her as much as I do.  By the way," he added, sitting again.  "I was curious.  What exactly were you going to call her?  A pug-faced what?"

Ginny's face flushed.  "Definitely NOT for mixed company.  And you're sitting on my book."

He shifted and retrieved the book, handing it back to her.  "Come up here a lot, do you, Weasley?" he said conversationally.

"Why?  You thinking of making it a habit of bothering me?"

He stood and smirked at her.  "Just asked, Weasley.  No need to get defensive.  I didn't realize you were scared of me."

"Hardly," she retorted, rolling her eyes and lifting her chin.  "I just like my privacy.  This is about the only place I can find any.  I'm up here nearly every night."

He nodded.  "Right then.  You know, Weasley, you're pretty brilliant, yourself, the way you caught on so fast," he said, reaching to wrap a hand around her neck.  His gaze was very serious when he said, "I like you, right?  See you, then.  Tomorrow night." 

Releasing her, he strolled away.  Ginny stared after him for a moment before finding her place in her book again.  The grin on her face widened as she realized that he'd lied.  Despite what he'd said earlier, he had just spouted poetry. 


	2. Homework

            Disclaimer:  Everything except the (rather thin) plot belongs to JKR, et al.

            Note:  Another attempt at that strange art form called the vignette.  These are so much easier than long chapters…but, yes, work on W&K continues.  

"Well, brat," Draco Malfoy was saying as he looked over the red-haired girl's shoulder.  "What didn't you understand in herbology today?"

            Ginny Weasley sighed and flipped her heavy braid over her shoulder.  Her herbology notes and text were spread out in front of her, but the scroll she'd been trying to do her homework on was glaringly blank.

            "How about everything," she snapped, glancing up at the tall blond Slytherin currently leaning over her chair.  "How do you understand it so well, Malfoy?  It doesn't make sense!"

            Smirking, Draco pulled out the chair beside her and sat.  "You know the answer to that already, brat," he said smoothly.  "I'm amazingly smart and outstanding at everything I do.  Dragging her notes over, he looked at them with an expression of disgust.  "How do you read this stuff?  No wonder you don't understand it; you can't even read your own handwriting!"

            Ginny glared at him and tugged the notes back.  "I can read them just fine," she retorted.  "I just don't understand what Sprout's trying to say.  And stop calling me 'brat'."

            Draco grinned at her and said, "Well, then, brat, read them to me and I'll see if I can explain."

            Ginny couldn't help grinning back.  Since the little joke they'd played on Pansy Parkinson a few weeks back, Ginny and Draco had both been up in the library most evenings after classes.  They weren't really meeting, since they sometimes completely ignored the other.  But sometimes he would come over and mock or tease or talk to her.  And since discovering her toiling over her herbology homework last week, he'd made her go over the stuff with him.  

            He'd begun calling her 'brat' very soon after the 'Pansy' incident, telling her that that was what she had behaved like.  Ginny really didn't mind, though.  It certainly beat being called by her last name all the time.  For her part, she stuck with 'Malfoy', uttered in that tone that only Gryffindors seemed to be able to master; one part contempt, one part resignation, and a good deal of scorn.  He accepted it with surprising good humor, and, for this particular Slytherin and Gryffindor, there seemed to be a truce in place.  

            Now Ginny glanced at the good-looking boy beside her and sighed.  He loved acting superior, but he really was good in herbology, and could usually explain everything to her so she understood the how's and why's.  He didn't have to look so bloody smug about it, though, did he?  

            With a little shrug of resignation, Ginny pointed to what was perplexing her at the moment.  

            "All right, I understand that foxglove is a poison, especially the greens.  But if it's poison, why do we use it in so many antidotes and medicines?  I mean, you use it to counteract several disabling potions, and it's used for people with heart problems, so I just don't get it."

            Draco thought about it for a minute, then smiled.

            "Right, then.  Remember when your mum sent you that fudge last year for Christmas?"

            Ginny scowled.  She remembered.  The git sitting next to her right now had snatched it from her when she'd brought it with her to breakfast last year, and wouldn't give it back.  He'd been the most complete prat about it, even though Ginny was sure he'd promptly chucked the lot in the dustbin as soon as he got back to Slytherin.  

            "Yes," she growled, truly angry with him for the first time in weeks.  

            "Hey, don't take my head off.  It was fudge, and you should have known better than to bring it out.  Anyway, your mum's fudge is probably the best I've every tasted."

            "You mean you actually ate it?" 

            "Of course!  What did you think I did with it?"

            Ginny looked away guiltily.  "I thought you probably threw it in the dustbin.

            "I would never waste good fudge like that," he chided.  "But, back to what I was saying.  The fudge was great, but I ate all of it at once.  I can't remember being that sick in my life!  So, in a small portion, it's like heaven.  But too much, and it's like poison.  Just like the foxglove.  When you break it down and get the medicinal parts out, just the tiniest portions, it's all good.  But too much and it's poison.  Right?"

            Ginny frowned.  When he said it like that it made perfect sense.  Why hadn't she been able to make that connection herself?  

            "You know, your face will get stuck like that if you keep it up, brat," Draco remarked, watching her.  

            "So, what do you care?  You'd just have something else to snipe about, wouldn't you?" she returned.

            "Yeah, but I have a reputation to maintain.  Can't be seen sniping at someone with a scrunched up face, can I?  And don't worry about the herbology so much.  Sprout says your doing much better.  Talk to you later, brat."

            He stood and gave her heavy braid a quick tug, then tossed it over her shoulder to dangle down her chest.  That drew an automatic protest from her that he just laughed at.  

            "You're a git, you know that, right?" she quipped, now smiling.  

            "Yeah, but I'm a good-looking, smart, _brilliant_ git."

            He gave her a quick nod before walking away.  Ginny shook her head.  Turning back to her homework, she marveled at how it now seemed to make sense.  Impatiently tossing her braid back over her shoulder, Ginny settled down to work. 


	3. Skin Deep

         _People are shallow; most people are still in the kiddie pool.  At least I'm in the four-foot area, but I'm nowhere near, like, Ghandi, who's in the deep end; you know, the twenty-foot diving area?--David Felix_

_         Looks attract; personality keeps-Kelly Felix aka Davesmom_

Ginny Weasley closed her schoolbook with a sigh of relief.  She hated herbology and never did very well in it.  She was doing better right now, but for the most bizarre reason.  As unlikely as it seemed, Draco Malfoy was actually helping her out.  Stuffing her book back into her bag, Ginny dragged her current romance novel out and settled back to read.  

         This one was as unbelievable and ridiculously predictable as all her others, but she liked it anyway.  The romantic parts were well written and made her feel breathless and warm and tingly.  Despite the predictable plot, it seemed to just draw her in.  In fact, she was already deep into the story when she sensed someone sitting opposite her at the table a few minutes later. 

         Still thinking of the heroine who was currently kissing the handsome hero, Ginny raised slightly glazed eyes to look at the equally handsome boy who was smirking at her.

         Ginny smiled, not really focusing on the arrogant boy sitting across from her.  The boy, on the other hand, abruptly pushed back from the table with a panicked expression on his face.  Seeing this, Ginny focused suddenly and gave him a quizzical look.

         "What?  What is it?" she demanded.

         "What was that about, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy asked quickly.  "What was that look for?"

         Ginny frowned.  "What look?"

         Draco gave Ginny a suspicious look as he leaned forward.  "That dreamy eyed, '_Oh, Draco'_ look!  You've never done that before!"

         Ginny raised her eyebrows as she tried to decide whether to laugh or be offended.  

         "'_Oh, Draco'_ look?  You're having me on, right, Malfoy?  Don't flatter yourself!"

         Mirth overcame annoyance as Draco went from horrified to indignant.  She began to giggle, unable to control the laughter spilling from her.  As the irate Slytherin glared, Ginny began to laugh even harder.  

         "What do you mean, don't flatter myself?  Don't tell me you don't find me attractive, Weasley.  You've said as much yourself, a few times!"

         This was too much!  Between spurts of laughter, Ginny, mopping her eyes and trying desperately to control herself, said, "Nope!  N-no conceit in y-your family, M-malfoy!  You g-got it all!"

         Draco was looking more and more irritated.  He stood, giving her another furious scowl.  

         "Fine, Weasley," he snapped.  "I don't have to sit here and listen to you cackling like a jackal.  I've got better things to do."

         Ginny finally got her laughter under control.  Standing quickly, she motioned for him to sit again.

         "Come on, Malfoy," she said through tiny giggles.  "Don't be that way! Sit down!"

         Draco gave her another glare, but sat.  Ginny was glad, because despite his reputation and the way he acted toward nearly everyone at the castle, she did like him.  She supposed it was because they'd shared that brilliant joke against Pansy Parkinson, who wasn't really pug-faced until she became upset.  But then, almost everyone hated the girl because she was so bloody conceited and nasty.  Ginny sat again, wiping her streaming eyes. 

         "Right, then, Malfoy," she said finally.  "First, you don't have to go into a panic just because you think I'm interested in you, which I'm not. I mean, I realize I'm just a poor little Gryffindor, but you don't have to act like it would be a fate worse than death.  And another thing:  I said you were good-looking; I didn't say I found you attractive.  There _is_ a difference."

         Draco gave her a skeptical look.  "Well, I didn't mean to insult you, Weasley.  You know if I'd wanted to, I'd have been much more direct about it.  But the good-looking and attractive thing is just splitting hairs and you know it."

         Ginny looked amused as she said, "Oh, and I suppose that just because I'm female, I have to fall under the spell of your god-like looks?  You know, some people do look for a personality."

         Draco seemed to have recovered his habitual arrogance.  Smirking, he said, "Not bloody many.  And I hope you're telling the truth, brat, because it is so very tiresome to have to ward off the unwanted advances of the masses."

         Ginny rolled her eyes.  "Well, I will admit that if I didn't know what a conceited, stuck-up, miserable prat you usually are, I might just succumb to your…_charms?_"  Her voice took much of the sting out of the insult, but it also made it very clear that she rather doubted his charms.  

         Draco lifted an eyebrow.  "So you're saying, brat, that out of the entire population of adolescent females, you're the one who likes a fellow for his personality rather than his looks?  And you knew Potter so very well when you were following him around like an adoring puppy, right?"

         Ginny sniffed at his reminder of her silly crush on Harry Potter.  "Unlike you, I never said I was perfect.  At least I admit my mistakes, which is more than I can say for some people who shall remain nameless, but happen to be sitting across from me."

         Now Draco smiled.  He did enjoy the time he spent with this surprisingly sharp little Gryffindor.  He would never admit it to anyone else, but he found her company relaxing for the most part.  He was glad she wasn't about to ruin things by forming some ridiculous adolescent crush on him.  

         "But you are saying that if some really nice, but plain fellow tried to get your attention you wouldn't just brush him off?" he challenged.

         Ginny bit her lip.  "You know, I don't think so.  But I guess you never know until it happens, right?  I mean, I like to think I'd at least give the boy a chance, but people really are generally shallow, aren't they?  I guess that's one reason so many women love these things."

         She picked up the book she'd set aside.  "The hero and heroine are always perfect, they have nice teeth, and never worry about bad breath or body odor.  It's escapism, but it's basically harmless.  In real life, its hard enough just to meet someone you don't want to throttle, let alone allow them close enough to tell what brand of toothpaste you use."  

         Shrugging, she added, "I don't want to throttle you, Malfoy, until you go all 'Slytherin' on me and act like you're king of the world.  So, don't worry.  I knew what a bastard you can be before I started enjoying talking to you.  There's not really much chance of me getting all romantic about you, just because you happen to have nice teeth and great hair.  Right?"

         Draco looked as though he thought she might be just the slightest bit addled.  With a small shake of his head, he said, "Uh, thanks, I think."

         Settling back more comfortably in his chair, he pulled a newspaper from his book bag.  Shaking it out, he said, "So, do you think the Harpies have a chance in the playoffs?"


	4. Nothing to Do with Real Life

         _Life is what happens when you were making other plans--unknown_

"You said these stories I read have nothing to do with real life, right, Malfoy?"

         Ginny Weasley was ensconced in one of the plush window seats with her short, comfortable frame stretched across the cushions and her back to one of the cool, stone walls.  At present, her long, flaming hair was pulled back in her usual plait and tied with a green and red ribbon, in honor the Christmas season. She was holding a thick romance novel in one hand while the other gestured toward the tall, good-looking blond who was leaning against the nearby bookshelves.

         "Yeah, that's right, Weasley.  I can't believe you still rot your brain with that crap.  What do you see in them, anyway?"

         He was grinning (smirking, really) while leafing through the latest copy of '_Quidditch Quarterly'_, the trade paper for Quidditch enthusiasts.  

         For once, Ginny didn't return his insult.  Instead, she stared blankly at the pages in front of her.  She wasn't wearing her normal cheerful expression, nor was she smiling mischievously as she often did when in Malfoy's company.  Right now she looked pensive.  When she didn't answer him after a few moments, Draco folded his paper under his arm and moved next to her.  

         "All right, brat, spill it.  What's wrong?"

         "What do you mean?  Nothing's wrong," she said, avoiding his eyes. 

         Snagging the book from her grip, Draco closed it and tossed it onto the seat beside her.  Motioning for her to move, he sat near her knees and gave her a glare.  

         "Listen, brat, you _never_ pass up a chance to argue with me.  When I ask what you see in those godawful books, you _always _have a smart remark.  So, when you don't bite my head off for calling them crap, there's something wrong.  I just need to figure what it is.  Fail another Herbology exam?"

         Ginny sighed.  She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  Leaning her chin on her knees, she frowned again.  

         "Cute trick, brat," Draco commented, reaching out to tug the braid dangling over her shoulder.  "You look about ten years old right now.  And your face will get stuck if you keep frowning like that."

         Ginny didn't reply for a moment, and Draco wondered what could make this normally boisterous girl so quiet.  Finally, she lifted her head.

         "What's real life to you, Malfoy?  I mean, not breaking a girl's neck while telling her you love her, but the other stuff.  What's it like for you at home?  When you want to do something but your mum and dad can't…crap.  Never mind.  You can't even answer that one like a normal person."

         Draco's eyebrows shot up.  They seldom discussed anything 'personal' and he could see landmines all over this particular subject.  It sounded very much like Weasley was going to start talking about money.  He cleared his throat.

         "Hm, well, Weasley, I never claimed to be 'normal'," he stated, sounding unbearably pompous.  "I strive to be above the ordinary, and be extraordinary."

          The corner of her mouth twitched just the slightest bit, so Draco went on.  "Besides, I imagine we have some of the same problems.  I want a new broom but my father says I just got one and don't need another.  I want a second piece of cake, but Mother says no, I'll get sick.  My parents fight, like other people's parents, though probably not about the same things.  They argue; Mother throws things.  Sometimes I want to just scream at them.  What about you?"

         Ginny had lifted her head at these shockingly personal revelations.  She would never have imagined Malfoy actually admitting that his life wasn't picture perfect. Setting aside her amazement, she said, "Well, Mum doesn't throw things, but she's awfully good with a wooden spoon."

         Draco smirked.  This was better.  Although his parents had never denied him a second anything, they did fight, and some of the fights were bloody awful.  And even though he hadn't meant to confide that particular fact to the youngest Weasley, at least she didn't look like a pathetic urchin anymore.  

         "C'mon, brat," he said bracingly.  "What's wrong?"

         She clicked her tongue.  "It sounds so childish, now," she said hesitantly.  

         "So what else is new?"

         "You're a real git, you know that, don't you?"

         "So you always tell me.  What's wrong?"

         With a roll of her eyes, Ginny finally said, "A real _persistent _git.  It's about the holidays.  Mum and Dad are going to visit Charlie, Ron is spending his holidays at some resort with Hermione and her family, but I have to spend mine with George and Fred in London."

         Draco shrugged.  "And that's bad because why?  I mean you're not stuck here, right?"

         Eying him narrowly, she demanded, "Have you ever had all of your presents explode in your face?  Try eating the inedible mess those two come up with for meals.  I'll end up doing all the cooking.  And I won't even go into what to expect to come out of my toothpaste tube or deodorant can.  It's going to be a nightmare!"

         Draco felt a sudden surge of pity and a bit of annoyance with her.  It was too bad that she had to spend the holidays with those irritating git brothers of hers, but at least she had family to spend the holidays with.  "Well, then, brat, just stay here," he said more harshly than he'd intended.  More gently, he added, "I could always use another target for my enchanted snowball fight."

         She snorted.  "As enticing as your offer is, Malfoy, I'm going to have to pass.  Mum and Dad have already decreed that I will help the boys in their shop for the holidays so I can earn some spending money.  It just isn't fair!"

         Ginny rested her forehead on her knees and was surprised to hear him snarl at her. 

         "Why don't you grow up, Weasley?  Life isn't a book and life isn't fair!  Your stupid books have silly little plots that wouldn't happen to a real person in a hundred years.  They're not real life.  Real life is a mother who cares more for her manicure than her son.  Real life is a father who thinks he can buy everything in the world, but won't take his kid to a game unless it's for political gain.  Real life is being surrounded by family who couldn't care if you live or die!  You think you've got it tough!"  Draco edged closer, his face almost nose to nose with Ginny's.  "It's not like you're being sent to a leper colony, or something, right?  You're going to spend the holidays with brothers who love you.  So what if you get an exploding gift or some of those enchanted candies of theirs?  At least you know if something happens to you in the middle of the night they'll be there to take care of you.  You won't have some freak of nature dropping by any time of day or night to order your brothers to go off some poor slob, right?  God, you people make me sick, bleating about how bad you have it, when you've got fucking everything!  You know what, Weasley?  Go tell someone who cares."

         He'd been talking quietly, but almost spitting out the words.  Ginny had backed away from him a bit more with every word, until she was now cringing in a corner.  He straightened abruptly, his face suddenly blank.  Without another word, he stood and left the library. 

         Ginny bit her lip, hard.  If she didn't she'd be bawling like a baby right now.  The thing was, she wasn't sure if she would be bawling for herself or for him.  Deciding that it didn't matter, Ginny scrubbed at her eyes with her knuckles, and then picked up her book.  It took her ten minutes to realize that the damned thing was upside down. 


	5. Coffee, Tea or Me

_After all, coffee is bitter, a flavor from the forbidden and dangerous realm. --Diane Ackerman _

Ginny Weasley sat at her usual table in the bookstore-cum-coffee house located just over the road from George and Fred's joke shop.  She would be heading back to Hogwarts in two days and, honestly, spending the hols with her brothers hadn't been half bad.  She would actually miss them, in spite of the fact that they'd made her do all the cooking.  At least they'd done the washing up and had even helped with marketing.  Ginny supposed that it hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd made out to Malfoy the week before she left.  

            Sighing, Ginny picked up her cup of steaming coffee, a special blend with a cinnamon-cocoa-vanilla flavour and heaping with frothy whipped cream.  She'd tried it on the recommendation of the young man who worked at the place in the evenings, after most of the other shops along the lane closed.  Ginny had come in after helping George and Fred, drawn as much by the wonderful aromas wafting out onto the cold street as by the rows and stacks and shelves of books.  She'd been quite overwhelmed at the variety of beverages one could order, from iced drinks to cool teas to scaldingly hot chocolates and coffees.  

            The young man behind the counter gave her a practiced look and had guessed that she liked her chocolate hot and sweet.  She had admitted to the childish preference and to thinking that coffee was a little too bitter for her taste.  Smiling, the young man had gone to work.  The resultant drink, he'd told her, wasn't chocolate, but it had cocoa flavouring, and he bet she'd love it.  She had, and couldn't be moved to try anything else after.  

            Now Ginny was addicted and wondering if, after George and Fred paid her for her help, she might not be able to afford one of the tiny, single cup drip coffee makers and a few bags of the special brew.  

            Taking a careful sip of the piping hot, sweet coffee, Ginny tried to focus on her novel.  It was difficult, though.  She would be returning to Hogwarts in two days and she still felt horrid about the argument she and Malfoy had had.  Well, not an argument, because that took two people.  But he had just exploded at her, and hadn't spoken to her since.  It was sad, because she was coming to like the nasty, arrogant git, a lot.  Not romantically, of course, but she liked his company and it was sad to think that the rapport they'd developed had been destroyed so easily and quickly.

            "You know, frownin' like that's not good for you," a pleasant voice said from over her shoulder.

            "How do you know I'm frowning?" Ginny asked, turning to see the man from the shop standing behind her.

            He grinned and sat at her table.  He often did when there were no other customers, and Ginny had found that, in spite of him being possibly four or five years older, she enjoyed his conversation. 

            "You're always frownin' before you start readin'.  Bad memories?"

            Ginny looked away from the young man's plain, comfortable face and shrugged.  

            "It's nothing, Bob," she said.  "Just thinking about a fr—an acquaintance.  We had a kind of falling out before I left school."

            She glanced back to see Bob's mobile eyebrows lift.  "You had a fight wi' your boyfriend?"

            Ginny smiled.  "No, he wasn't my boyfriend.  Even I'm not _that_ insane.  But I did think we were friends."

            Reaching to give her hand a small squeeze, Bob said, "So, you're not even friends wi' the bloke?"

            "I guess not.  We had a sort of disagreement and he wouldn't talk to me after.  I thought we'd become friends, but I guess I was more of an amusement; a way to pass time."

            At the young man's look of outrage, Ginny giggled.  "I didn't mean like that.  We just talked.  We argued, but in fun, you know?  He'd tease me, I'd tease him back.  But our only serious conversation just sort of blew up."

            They sat in silence for another moment before the young man said, "You're leavin' tomorrow?"

            "Day after, but tomorrow the boys are taking me out to a real dinner.  They're trying to make up for making me slave over their stove these last two weeks."

            Ginny grinned, but her new friend didn't look very happy.  "What?  What is it?"

            "Nothin'," he said as he stood to help the customer who had just entered. 

Ginny watched him for a moment, then returned to her book. 

Some time later, Ginny drank down the dregs of her coffee and closed the book.  It was time to go home.  Bob hurried over as Ginny stood.  He took Ginny's hand and held it firmly. 

            "See, it's like this, Ginny-girl," he said without preamble, using the pet name he'd given her the first day he'd met her.  "I know I'm older, an' I didn' graduate from a fine school like Hogwarts, an' all, but I like you, a lot!  I wanted you to know that before you leave."

            Ginny stared up into his plain face in wonder.  He liked her?  He hadn't said a word before.  "And you're telling me on the last day I see you because why?" she demanded, twining her fingers with his.

            He looked startled.  "You mean, you don' mind?  A pretty girl like you, an' you don' mind that I'm not good lookin' and all?"

            Snatching her hand back, Ginny frowned.  "Oh, well, that's different," she snapped.  "You didn't say you liked my _looks_.  Here I thought it was the girl inside you liked."

            "Aw, Ginny-girl, don't!" he pleaded.  "'Course it's _you_ I like.  I jus' thought you wouldn't be interested."

            "Bob," Ginny said, taking his hand again, "I like you too, and it doesn't have anything to do with the way you look!  You treated me like a person, not a customer.  You listened to me bleating about my horrible life, and you've been a friend.  Why wouldn't I like you?  I mean, we don't know each other all that well, but I still like you."

            He smiled then, and the smile lit his face.  He wasn't homely or plain now.  Leaning forward tentatively, he said, "You never bleat, Ginny-girl.  An' I like listenin' to you.  Do you think we know each other well enough for me to kiss you good-bye?"

            Smiling, Ginny nodded.  "I think we know each other well enough for a small kiss," she agreed.

            Luckily the shop was empty.  Bob bent his head down and touched his lips to hers.  Ginny leaned up and pressed closer, thinking how pleasantly he kissed.  A moment later he straightened.  Opening her eyes, Ginny smiled at him.  Bob's face was suddenly very serious, making Ginny wonder if her toothpaste or deodorant had failed her.  

            "I won't see you again," he said, his voice strange.  

            "At least not until summer," Ginny agreed.

            "I won't be here in the summer.  You're a special girl, Ginny Weasley.  And if the prat at school can't see it, it's his loss.  Just remember that."

            As Ginny walked down the dark, cold lane toward the twins' home she realized two things: First, Bob was right.  If Malfoy couldn't see that their friendship had been a good thing, it was his bloody loss.  The second was less pleasant.  She hadn't touched her Herbology homework. 


	6. That's What Friends are For

            _Never explain yourself. Your friends don't need it and your enemies won't believe it_--_Belgicia Howell_

            _A friend will help you move.  A really good friend will help you move bodies--unknown (at least to me)___

            Ginny sat at a table near the rear of the library, quills and parchment spread out in front of her.  Her herbology textbook was open, but Ginny could only stare at it blankly.  Once again, the herbology homework made no sense.   She couldn't ask Draco Malfoy for help since he no longer came to the library.  Not that she would.  He'd been hateful and rude to her the last time they spoke.  Not only that, but he hadn't spoken to her since she'd returned from holidays a month ago, not even in the hallways.  Remembering what her friend Bob had said, Ginny realized that he'd been right: it was Malfoy's loss, after all.  Ginny really didn't need his company, anyway.   At least, that was what she told herself. 

All her other homework was done, and she wasn't really getting anywhere with herbology, so Ginny stuffed everything back into her bag.  It was time to get back anyway.  Before she could stand, she heard a familiar voice.

"Failing herbology?  Who the hell _fails_ herbology?"

Barely glancing at the tall blond boy who was standing behind her chair, Ginny pushed away from the desk and stood.  Hefting her bag and flipping her long braid over her shoulder, she moved around him toward the library exit.   

"So, that's the way it is, Weasley?  We have one little argument and suddenly I get the silent treatment?  Fine, Weasley, be that way."

Ginny continued to walk away, ignoring him.

"Aw, come on, brat," he said, catching her up and pacing her.  "Don't be that way.  Come and sit down."

It was almost an echo of what she'd said to him the time she'd been laughing at him for being so conceited.  She was still angry at his spiteful outburst before the holidays, but Ginny could feel the grin twitching at the corners of her mouth.  As she stopped and looked at the tall young man standing beside her she didn't notice that others were watching them, whispering behind their hands.

"Be what way, Malfoy?  You mean I shouldn't take the fact that you yelled at me to grow up and tell someone who cares personally?  I wasn't even going to say anything, but you kept on and kept on until I told you.  You shouldn't have asked if you were just going to throw it in my face!"  Ginny watched as he rolled his eyes at her. 

"God, brat, are you still on about that?  Jeez, I guess you'll bleat about it until I apologize, right?  Fine, then.  I'm sorry I yelled at you, even though I didn't actually raise my voice.  There, happy?  Christ, I thought we were friends.  I don't claim to be all-knowing about friendship, but I thought friends could say what they felt to each other and not have to worry about it.  Shit, Weasley, you call me an arrogant, conceited git all the time and I don't go on about it, do I?"

Ginny felt the grin tugging at her mouth again.  "I only tell you that because _someone_ has to try to keep you humble, Malfoy.  If not for me, you wouldn't be able to fit your inflated ego through the door.  Besides, there's a difference between telling you what a git you are and you accusing me of 'bleating' about how bad I have it when I have 'fucking' everything."

He frowned at her, obviously thinking.  

"So I suppose when you insult me, it's in the spirit of public-mindedness and I shouldn't feel offended?  Is that it?"

"Something like that, Malfoy," Ginny agreed, crossing her arms and smirking at him.  "Even you should see the difference."

His own mouth was twitching, but he tried to hide it.  "First off, brat," he said finally, "don't say 'fucking'.  It's not a nice word and it's just _wrong_ to watch you say it.  Second, you're right.  There's a difference.  But, again, I thought we were friends."

Ginny was staring at him as thought she'd never seen him before.  Draco Malfoy was lecturing her on her _language?_  Now that was funny!  She tried not to giggle, she really did, but she couldn't seem to help it.  The young man watching her was torn.  He was being laughed at again, something this little Gryffindor seemed to do all too often.  On the other hand, she wasn't storming out the door with her face all puckered up in outrage anymore, so that was to the good.  

Putting on his best arrogant smirk, he said, "Something I said, brat?"

Smiling, Ginny nodded.  "I can't believe _you_ of all people have the nerve to talk to me about my language!  I was just repeating what you said.  And if we're friends, Malfoy, why haven't you bothered to talk to me for the last month?"

"Why haven't you bothered to talk to me, brat?" he countered.  "You know it takes two to make a conversation."

Smug, Ginny thought.  He looked damned smug right now.  "Because _I _was the injured party.  You should have come to me first," Ginny proclaimed, lifting her chin.

"What the hell do you think I just did, Weasley?  So, you got what you wanted.  I apologized, and I came to you first.  Any other little things that I should know about so we can get out of the middle of the room and stop attracting attention?"

"Well, you could always stop calling me brat.  That would be nice."

Grinning, Draco shook his head.  "Sorry, Weasley, but even you can't have everything."

Ginny couldn't help smiling back.  He had an awfully infectious smile even if she rarely saw it.  Despite Draco's words, neither teen noticed the attention they were drawing.  

"And since you've flashed that beautiful smile at me, I'm supposed to succumb to your questionable charm and forgive you for being an insufferable prat?  Is that the way it is, Malfoy?"

"The day you 'succumb' to my charm and looks will be a very chilly day in hell, Weasley.  Even I know that.  But, as for forgiving my being an insufferable prat, that's what friends are for, isn't it?"

He reached out, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer.  "And we are friends, right, brat?"

Ginny sighed, but couldn't help smiling brightly at him.  "Well, Malfoy, when you put it like that, I suppose so."

"Good!" he said, releasing her.  "Now, brat," he continued, motioning toward a table.  "How about you show me what's bothering you in herbology _this_ time?"


	7. Your Lying Eyes

_It is always the best policy to speak the truth--unless, of course, you are an exceptionally good liar—Jerome K. Jerome _

_Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies—Ralph Waldo Emerson_

            _I would have told the truth, but lying was funnier—Kelly Felix (aka Davesmom)_

            Ginny glanced up from the book she was reading, a look of resignation on her face.  He'd found her.  _Damn_, she thought.  She'd hoped she'd lost him on the stairs.  Sighing, Ginny closed her book and laid it aside.  Then she watched her older brother stomping toward her.  

            "I wasn't through, yet," he said without preamble.  Taking up the conversation (no, it had been a rant, not a conversation, Ginny informed herself.  Conversations took two people and Ron hadn't let her get a word in edgewise.) Ron shook his finger at her. 

            "I've had at least a dozen people ask me what my sister means by going out with that scum Malfoy.  I won't put up with it, Gin!  You know what him and his lot are.  You just tell him to bugger off!  Got it?"

            Ginny's patience had been stretched to the utmost.  It wasn't enough that Ron had just spoiled her evening meal, but now he had to follow her into her sanctuary.  She came to the library to be _away_ from the usual crowd of people she had to see every day in the common room.  Not only that, but the great git was actually trying to dictate to her whom she could spend her time with!  She would not tolerate it!

            "If I tell anyone to bugger off, Ron, it'll be you!  How _dare_ you try to tell me who I can talk to!  Just who the hell do you think you are?"

            Ginny was angry, yes, but she was also tired of having people ask her about Malfoy.  Ever since she and Malfoy had begun talking again after the holidays, people seemed to have noticed.  Ginny had initially blamed that jealous cat Pansy Parkinson, but it seemed that _everyone _was talking about it.  _Everyone _seemed to think that he or she had a right to question Ginny about it, and _everyone _seemed to think there was more going on than there really was.  She did like Malfoy, even though she knew what a rotten ass he was to most people.  He treated _her _well, and the fact was that they _were _friends.  

            "What do you mean, who do I think I am?" Ron snapped.  "I'm your brother!  I'm supposed to protect you!  And that means keeping scum like Malfoy away from you!"

            Ginny bit back the automatic response that he hadn't done a very good job protecting her in her first year or even keeping the dementors from nearly sapping her on the train in her second year.  Instead, she changed tactics.

            "Just how do you know its Malfoy you need to be worried about, Ron?  Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one making moves on him?  Maybe it's Malfoy who needs your protection, because I sure the hell don't!"

            Ron gaped at her for a few seconds, apparently unable accept this as a possibility.  Before he could frame some sort of reply, Ginny saw a familiar and very welcome figure move behind him.  

            "This prat bothering you, brat?" Draco said smoothly.  "Can I help?"

            Ginny smiled, a sly, mischievous glint in her eye.  "My brother seems to be under the impression that _you're_ bothering me, Malfoy.  I was just telling him that you were an innocent victim, and I'm the one with evil designs on your pure, pristine person.  Isn't that right?"

            Draco's eyebrows lifted as he flashed her a grin.  He then faced the spluttering, indignant older brother.  "She's absolutely right, Weasley," he said.  "I've told her again and again that I only want to be friends, but she continues to assault my virtue.  Well, I'm tired of fighting, so I've decided to give in to her lustful demands."

            Reaching for Ginny's hand, Draco drew her from the seat.  "Very well, brat," he intoned gravely.  "Take me, I'm yours!"

            Ginny was giggling helplessly as Draco pushed himself into her arms and laid his head on her shoulder.  "Please be gentle with me, darling.  It's my first time," he implored, a wistful, pleading expression on his face, before falling into a play faint against her.  

            Ron looked on, speechless, his eyes as wide as saucers.  

            "No!" he uttered.  "This can_not_ be happening!  Oh, lord!  Mum's gonna have kittens!  Ginny…"

            He broke off as he watched Ginny and Draco collapse onto the window seat, both laughing hysterically and hugging the other to keep from falling.  Draco was able to stop laughing just long enough to tell Ron to bugger off before cracking up again.

            Ron seemed unsure whether to try to tear Draco apart or drag Ginny back to Gryffindor.  He dithered for a moment before grasping his head between his hands.

"Headache, Ron?" Ginny asked in false concern before dissolving into another peal of laughter.  "Maybe Madame Pince can help.  Here she comes," Ginny added between giggles.  Ron scowled blackly, but backed off.  

"This isn't over yet," he said.  He seemed to know that he wouldn't get a sensible response from either of them at the moment so he stormed off.

Madame Pince watched the flustered teen stalk by as she hurried to see what the commotion was.  Ginny and Draco immediately pulled themselves together, only emitting the occasional odd hiccough while the librarian told them off for causing such a disturbance.  When she finally left them, they glanced at one another and almost went off again.  

            When they could finally face each other without howling with laughter, Draco gave the girl a wicked grin.  "Evil designs on my 'pure, pristine person'?  Weasley, you are so evilly brilliant.  That was so much better than what we did to Pansy.  I feel I'm in the presence of a master!"

            She couldn't help laughing.  "I thought that was rather good, myself," she admitted.  "And, as to masters, I must say, Malfoy, I did learn from the best, didn't I?" 

            Looking unutterably smug, Draco nodded.  "That you did."  Motioning to her book bag, he added, "Now, brat, let's see if you can 'master' your Herbology homework."


	8. Green Eyed Monsters Not Named Harry

_Jealousy is all the fun you think they had--__Erica Jong, Fear of Flying, 1973_

_Just call me Cleopatra, everyone, 'cause I'm the queen of denial—Pam Tillis, 'Cleopatra, Queen of Denial'_

Draco Malfoy watched the girl bounce into the library, her bag slung across her shoulder and the ever-present sappy romance novel in one hand.  It was that walk that had first attracted Draco's attention to the girl as anything more than a recipient for his bullying and sarcastic remarks.  He'd been sitting in the almost-empty library several months ago, bored nearly to tears, when the youngest Weasley had bounced in, her braid bobbing behind her, a small, secretive smile on her face.  Draco had frowned, then he'd grinned.  His intention had been to bother her, to insult her and maybe even make her run, crying, from the library.  

         Grinning again now, Draco remembered how surprised he'd been when she'd seemed more annoyed than insulted.  The cheeky little twit had just sat there calmly debating the merit of her silly romances with him.  Draco had actually been enjoying their conversation; even the way the girl had teased him about not knowing anything about how a lover would speak.  

         Even better, though, had been how Weasley had helped him play a trick on that silly bint Parkinson.  She'd been brilliant.  She hadn't panicked when Draco had pulled her to him and pressed their lips together.  And she hadn't taken it wrong and formed a ridiculous crush on him.  In fact, they'd been talking for almost six months (except for the month after the holidays) ,and Weasley was probably the best friend he'd ever had.  

         That made a significant statement about his housemate acquaintances. He had to admit, though, that neither Crabbe nor Goyle had ever really been more than his goons and bodyguards.  They kowtowed to him and sucked up to him and generally made him want to spew. 

         Weasley, on the other hand, didn't give a damn about how much money he might have.  She didn't care about how influential his family was; in fact, she had good reason to hate that family, himself included.  She never failed to try to take him down a notch so he didn't 'think too much' of himself.  Draco could only remember one time when he'd thought she might be falling for him, and when she'd found out, she'd laughed right in his face.  

         He watched as she made her way toward the rear of the library.  Suddenly she glanced up and met his eyes.  She smiled, that curious, sly, ready-for-mischief smile of hers that he'd grown used to.  Damned if she shouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin, he thought as he returned the smile.  She was sneaky enough.  Unfortunately she had that disgusting streak of honor that would have prevented her from being ruthless enough to survive in his house.  

         Then she was gone, out of sight around the shelves.  Draco frowned.  In all the time they'd been talking, she'd never, even once, approached him.  He always came to her first.  Before the holidays, when they'd had that stupid argument (well, he amended with uncharacteristic honesty, after he'd lost his temper and blown up at her) Draco was sure she would come to him in righteous indignation and demand an apology, an explanation, or both.  She hadn't.  Instead, she'd stopped coming to the library.  After the hols she'd seemed so damned pleased with herself, so smugly self-assured.  She hadn't approached him then, either, because of the advice of the blasted coffee shop worker she seemed to keep sighing over now.  

Finally, after almost a month, Draco had gone to her.  Not that it was a big deal.  He was going mad with no one _normal_ to talk to.  He'd grown used to laughing and joking with the youngest Weasley, and he was the first to admit that he didn't have the temperament or upbringing to deny himself what he wanted.  

         Now, however, it was becoming irritating.  He was sitting right here, right in front of her!  She saw him, but other than giving him that grin of hers, she had completely ignored him!  Had that stupid git brother of hers finally succeeded in warning her off?  Anger boiled inside Draco's chest at the thought of Ron Weasley telling his sister to stay away from him.  It was too damned much.  

         Although he had already decided to ignore Weasley if she came to the library, Draco stuffed the papers he'd been looking over into his bag and was tracking her down before he even realized he'd stood.  

         Ginny glanced up as he approached.  Smiling, she scooted over on the cushioned seat and patted the place beside her.  

         "So you're not doing homework after all?"

         "Since when do I do homework in the library?" he practically growled.

         "What crawled up your backside, Malfoy?" Ginny returned genially.  

         Malfoy wasn't the most rational person she knew, and his occasional unexplained outbursts were just something she'd gotten used to.  She generally ignored them.  Sometimes she would give him a hard time about it, or tease him, but it was often not worth the effort.  She was still looking at him, noting the angry frown on his face as well as the tautness of his body.  Something had pissed him off, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to know what it was.  Then, as suddenly as it had started, his bad mood seemed to melt away. 

         "You know, brat," he said, "one of these days I'm going to finally scare you.  Even if I have to make it my life's work to make you cower, you're going to!"

         "In your dreams, Malfoy," Ginny quipped.  "Want a chocolate frog?"

         Sighing theatrically, Draco took the proffered sweet.  "Even when I outright threaten you, you ignore me.  You're hell on my ego, brat."

         "And not so long ago you told me how good I was for your ego, didn't you?" she replied without missing a beat.  "So, what were you doing if you weren't doing homework?"

         "Nothing; just looking over some papers.  You?"

         "I should be doing homework," she admitted slyly.  "But I found this book that I bought on holiday, and I decided to finally read it."

         She flashed the bodice-ripper cover at him and opened it to her page.

         "So, you get that at that stupid shop?  Where that git worked?"

         The girl turned a quizzical look at the handsome young man beside her.  "Pardon?"

         "I said, did you buy that book at that coffee shop where the stupid berk behind the counter was coming on to you?"

         Ginny felt her eyebrows rise almost to her hair.  She knew it was impossible, but Malfoy actually sounded _jealous._  With a small grin, she put a hand to her chest and tried to imitate his tone of voice.

         "Good God, Malfoy, what was _that_ look for?"

         "What look?" Draco demanded.

         She couldn't help it; she started giggling.  "Th-that 'Oh, Ginny' look!  I've n-never seen you l-look like th-that before!"

         "What!?"

         Draco shot up so fast, his bag went flying, scattering his papers all over the floor.  Ginny was trying desperately to muffle her laughter, but the look on his face had been so funny, she was having a hard time.  

         "Oh, gods, that was great!" she burst out when he knelt to retrieve his papers.  "Oh, lord, Malfoy!  I have been waiting to get even with you for that for so long!  That was perfect!"

         Draco finally looked up, scowling.  The girl was nearly bursting with the laughter she was trying to suppress.  Finally, though, he saw the humor of the situation.  With a disgruntled snort, he said, "Yeah, well, I live to amuse you, Weasley."

         Ginny finally stifled her chuckles and jumped down to help him gather his papers.  As he was stuffing the last into his bag, she placed a hand on his arm.  He wondered at her sudden somber expression.

         "Look, Malfoy," she said quietly.  "Don't worry.  I'm not about to go sweet on you, right?  I like your company and all, but romance?"  She shrugged, then grinned again.  "Besides, I wouldn't want to be one of the 'unwanted masses', now would I?"

         Draco looked at her hand resting on his arm.  He decided at that moment that he had a big mouth. 


	9. Hairy not Harry Situations

         (sorry, couldn't find any real good quotes that pertained to the story, so I got these about love, men and women)

Someone once told me that love makes the world go 'round. Well, I just had to laugh in their face because, c'mon, everyone knows that what makes the world go 'round is a mutant gerbil on a treadmill-from _Mutedfaith.com_

Men are from earth. Women are from earth. Deal with it-from _Mutedfaith.com_

Ginny Weasley sat in the far corner of the library, well away from the sunny walls and comfortable window seats that she usually occupied.  There were two reasons for this.  The first reason was that she didn't want to see anyone who might want to ask her about her recent altercation with Pansy Parkinson.  The second was that she'd been crying and she didn't want anyone to see her face right now, with the splotches and red eyes to accompany her fiery hair. 

         She had her homework with her, as well as a new romance that her mum had sent her, but Ginny ignored both.  She was too busy glaring at nothing in particular to pay attention to anything so mundane as _homework._  The romance, too, wasn't worth a thought.  It was of the '_they kissed and then their bliss took them to the stars and back'_ variety.  The heroine in these sorts of novels was always a sweet, innocent (stupid) young girl from the upper classes without a penny to her name that had somehow with her insipidity and inexperience had managed to snare the richest, handsomest, and most confirmed bachelor 'on the market'.  Oh, Ginny had thought with a snort, let's not forget that he would be an earl, or a viscount, or a wizard of the most amazing abilities.  Even Ginny, with her love of the handsome hero and the beautiful heroine, couldn't stomach the treacley tripe between the covers of this romance. 

         So she sat, embarrassed and angry, hoping no one she knew would find her.  Of course, she should have expected that she would be found.  It had just been that kind of day.  She certainly should not have been surprised that the person who found her would tug on the long braid that she routinely wore.  Unfortunately, she hadn't and she was, so instead of simply glaring at the young man who had approached her so quietly and tugged on her braid, she flew from her chair, swinging around and catching the young man with a blow that would have been vicious had he not had the quick reflexes of a born seeker.  

         "God, Weasley!  What the hell was that for!"

         Draco Malfoy gently fingered his chin, where Ginny's fist had glanced off.  It hurt like hell and he could only be grateful that he'd been able to dodge the force of the blow.  

         "Are you insane?"

         Ginny stared, shocked.  She hadn't intended to attack anyone; it had just happened.  Probably a result of the fight she'd had with that cow Parkinson.  She felt contrite, too.  She really did like this boy, in spite of all of their differences. 

         "I'm sorry!" she said quickly, looking from him to her fist as though trying to figure out how it had acted without her permission.

         "Yeah, thanks, brat.  I'll remember that when I'm suing you for assault!  And at the risk of sounding annoyingly repetitive, what the hell was that for?  You never cared when I did that before. You act like I hurt you or something."

         Now Ginny gave him a narrow look.  "It did, you great git.  What did you expect?"

Draco tilted his head slightly.  "What do you mean?  I barely pulled!"

Ginny blinked.  "You mean you didn't hear?"

         "Hear what?  I've been stuck in Snape's class.  He seems to think I need extra work on my advanced potions before NEWTS."

         He moved around the table and sat down.  "So, what happened?  And what are you doing over here in the corner?  I wasn't even going to look over—hey!  Have you been crying?"

         "Oh, well spotted, Malfoy!" Ginny answered acidly.  "What gave you the clue?  The crumpled tissues?  The red eyes?"

         Draco held his hands up in a warding gesture.  "Hey, don't take it out on me if the coffee house berk doesn't answer your letters!"

         "You're a pathetic git, Malfoy, you know that?  This doesn't have anything to do with Bob, and just because he doesn't—I mean, that's none of your business.  But I'll tell you this right now!  You'd better keep your girlfriend on a leash, because if she comes within two meters of me again, she'll need more than Madam Pomfrey to fix her!"

         Draco nearly backed away from the angry glare the small Gryffindor across from him was giving him.  "My girlfriend?" he said after a moment.  "You are insane, Weasley.  I don't have a girlfriend.  What _are_ you on about?" 

         Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.  "Oh, please don't tell me you didn't know about Parkinson and all her brave little Slytherin girlfriends planning on cornering me and trying to give me a new hairstyle, without benefit of scissors!"

         Ginny was nearly spitting with anger, but the look of bewilderment on the face of the young man sitting across from her calmed her a bit.  Perhaps he really _hadn't_ heard.  It didn't take long for the bewilderment to disappear and another emotion to replace it.  Despite spending most of her free time in this young man's company for the last several months, his black scowl had her cringing.  

         "Are you telling me that Pansy and her girlfriends attacked you?" he demanded in a low voice.  

         Shaking off her momentary fright, Ginny sniffed.  "They _tried_ to attack me.  You know from personal experience that it isn't that easy to do."

         She couldn't help sounding just a little pompous at that declaration.  Even though Draco hadn't tried to hex her in almost a year, he'd been on the receiving end of her defensive hexes often enough.  

         "Forget about that," he said with an impatient wave of his hand.  "Tell me what happened."

         Ginny shrugged.  "Well, first off, I _am_ sorry for hitting you, but you'll understand when I explain.  And I'm sitting back here because I know Snape or McGonagall or Hermione or someone is going to come looking for me sooner or later to tell them what I hexed your girlfriend with."

         Draco scowled again.  "_She's not my girlfriend,_" he gritted out.  "How many times do I have to tell you that? And what the hell happened?"

         "Fine!" Ginny said indignantly.  The effect was spoiled by the sudden malicious grin that stole across her face.  "You know those girls Parkinson hangs about with?"

         Draco nodded, wondering why his stomach was in such knots. Weasley looked fine, blotches and tear stains aside, and from his own experience it was probably Pansy he should be worrying about.  But the way she'd reacted, hitting out at him so blindly, had him upset.  

         "Well," she said, "I was on my way back to Gryffindor after classes and Parkinson and her gang sort of slithered up."

         The gist of the story was that Pansy had scared off Weasley's friends, then had started bullying the girl.  Weasley wasn't that easy to bully, though, and Pansy and her friends found they had a little devil on their hands, rather than the tiny weasel they'd thought.  Apparently they'd begun grabbing at her, trying to rip her clothes and pull her hair.  Pansy had gotten in one vicious yank before Weasley had hexed the girl.  The rest of the gang ran off, typically abandoning one of their own.  After sending the Gryffindor house ghost to get the healer, Weasley had come here.

         Draco wasn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned.  Coming to his feet, he came around behind her and gently slid his hand into the hair under her braid.

         "What are you—ouch!  Damn, that bloody well hurts!"

         Draco withdrew his fingers.  "Bloody is right.  That bitch practically yanked your hair out," he said in a cold voice, displaying his slightly blood streaked fingertips.  "I should—," 

         "_You_ won't do anything!" Ginny snapped, feeling rather uncomfortable now.  She'd never admit it to him, but it had felt quite nice to have him running his fingers through her hair.  Even the twinge of pain hadn't really been that bad.  It was more her own embarrassment that had caused her to cry out.  It would never do for him to think she really was going sweet on him.  Besides, she wasn't…much.  

         Standing abruptly, she backed away.  "The hex I used was one I've been experimenting with.  I'm not sure if the healer is going to be able to nullify it without some help.  As it was, she probably had to scrape up the mess I left and _pour_ Parkinson into a bed.  I should go."

         "Oh, I see," Draco said nastily.  He didn't, though.  He'd barely touched her and she'd jumped away as though he were contaminated.  Surprisingly, that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.  Giving her a sneer, he motioned to the long, thick braid and said, "Well, Weasley, here's just one bit of advice.  If you're not even going to do anything with it, you should cut that thing off.  Then people wouldn't mistake it for a bell rope."

         Draco turned and sauntered off, with Ginny watching bleakly.  He didn't see, at all.  Draco Malfoy indignant and angry on her behalf was something new to her.  And Draco Malfoy sliding gentle, graceful fingers into her hair and getting all cold and Slytherin over a bit of blood was just destined to sent her catapulting far beyond 'sweet' and into the frightening waters of 'infatuated'.  

         She watched him leave the library, brushing past Professor McGonagall.  Sighing, Ginny gathered her things and by the time she was finished, the professor was standing by her side.  

         "Miss Weasley," the professor said in a stiff voice.  "Would you kindly accompany me to the infirmary?  And when we're through there, we'll have a nice long discussion about hexing other students.  _Others_ might let their students get away with it, but regardless of the provocation, we are Gryffindors!"

         Feeling her heart sinking to her toes, Ginny hefted her bag and followed the Transfiguration professor out of the library.


	10. You Can't Always Get What You Want

            _You can't always get what you want.  But if you try sometimes, you might just find you get what you need.—The Rolling Stones (You Can't Always Get What You Want)_

_            Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name.—Ovid (43BC-17AD)_

_            Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.—Charles M. Schultz (1922-2000) Charlie Brown in _Peanuts

Ginny Weasley looked nervously from the crumpled letter in her hand to the tall blond young man standing before her.  The letter had come at breakfast and, at the time, Ginny couldn't help letting out a little squeal of delight.  That had been three hours ago.  Now the hot cereal with cream and honey she'd eaten was uneasily sloshing around with the specially brewed coffee she'd drunk just a bit ago.  Her stomach was churning, and it was all due to the haughty, amused look that Draco Malfoy was giving her right now.  

            "So the berk finally wrote you?  It only took, what?  Four months?  And you wrote right back to tell him to bugger off, right, brat?"

            Despite her nervousness, Ginny refused to look away.  Instead, she shook her head firmly, causing the long braid to slide off her shoulder and dangle down her back.  

            "I didn't do anything like," she said, trying to stifle the quiver in her voice.  "I sent him a note saying I'd love to meet him.  Today.  In Hogsmeade."

            Draco's lips quirked up.  "Yeah, sure you did," he said lightly.  Chuckling, he reached out and tugged the braid, flipping it onto her shoulder again.  "No, really, Weasley.  What did you tell him, exactly?  I'd like to know what the customary Gryffindor kiss-off sounds like."

            "Stop that!" Ginny snapped, impatiently tossing the plait back again and moving away from the young man who flustered her so badly lately.  "I told him that after I run some errands, I'd meet him for at that new coffee house.  Maybe get some lunch.  What's the big deal, any way?"

            Ginny flopped herself down in the window seat she usually occupied, stuffing the letter into her ever-present novel.  Part of her didn't want to be here, since their friendship had never been the same after the second Pansy incident.  The other part of her wanted desperately to just stay with this young man, previously her enemy and now much more than a friend.  But she'd never admit it to him.  She already knew that he wasn't interested in her _that _way.  Hadn't he made that clear on numerous occasions?  Striving for something like her former ease with him, she opened her romance novel and said, "So, any big plans for today?"

Draco stared at her, disbelief plain on his face.  She couldn't possibly be serious.  Stepping nearer to where she was casually lounging on the window seat, he said, "I don't believe it!" Even to himself he sounded too loud, but he continued anyway.  "I mean, you said he never bothered to answer the notes you sent him, then suddenly, out of nowhere, he says he wants to meet you.  And you agree?  Not only agree, but you squeak like a girl when you get the damned thing!  Are you out of your mind?"

            What was his problem?  Why did he have to chose today of all days to be such a git?  Ginny knew it wasn't anything like jealousy that was prompting this sudden interest in her activities, so he was probably just being ornery.  Huffing, she said, "I don't know what you're on about, Malfoy!  What business is it of yours, anyway?  I wouldn't have said anything if you didn't start badgering me about the stupid letter!"

            Draco pounced on that.  "_Stupid letter?_ See!?" he demanded.  "Even you think he's a stupid git!  Where's your pride?  Why on earth would you go to meet some prat who thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and have you come running when he snaps his fingers?"

            "Okay, Malfoy, that's it!" 

            Ginny jumped up from the seat and stalked to him.  Shoving at his chest, she gritted out, "It's none of your damn business, but he didn't _demand_ that I meet him, he just asked."  She shoved again, causing him to rock back on his heels and retreat a step.  "He didn't write back because he thought he'd be out of the country for the summer, but now he won't."  Another shove had Draco moving backward again, gaping at her.  "I liked him and I want to see him again.   So if I feel like going to lunch with him, or even snogging his brains out, I will!  Get it?"

            Closing his gaping mouth, Draco shook his head.  "No, brat," he growled finally.  "I don't get it!  You're going to meet some ugly berk who you haven't even seen in months!  He didn't have the decency to write back, and who is years older than you.  He probably doesn't have two sickles to rub together, and he works in a coffee house, for God's sake!  What do you see in him?  Don't you think you can do better?"

            "Oh, I can't believe you!" Ginny said, astounded.  "You—you—oh, there just isn't a word bad enough!  I never said Bob was ugly.  I just said he didn't happen to have the kind of looks that made people stare.  But you wouldn't understand that, would you, Mr.-I'm-So-Good-Looking?  And in the time I spent with him, he was always a gentleman, and very nice to me!  And I don't give a damn how old he is.  I'm going and I don't need your bloody permission to do it!"

            She made to shove him once more, but Draco grabbed her wrists and forced her to look at him.  Scowling, he opened his mouth to make some retort, but she snatched her hands away and cut him off.

            "Besides, Malfoy," she said with a sneer, "It's not like you give a damn, except that you might have to actually amuse yourself without me here hanging on your every word!  Well, sorry, but I'm not going to be one of the masses any more!"

            She pushed past him and hurried to the library, but turned back once more.  "Oh, and for your info, having money is a liability in my books.  For us simple poor folks, it makes it easy to know when someone likes us for ourselves." 

She spun away, her braid flying, and stomped out the door, but not before Draco saw the tears that had filled her eyes.  

"Ginny!"  He took a few steps to follow her, but stopped abruptly as the import of her words hit him.  What had she meant by saying she wouldn't be 'one of the masses'?  Did she really like him?  Despite her sarcastic tone and the angry words, Draco felt a silly grin cover his face.  

            Then realization of another kind hit him.  Sinking into the nearest available chair, he covered his face with his hands and sighed.  "Oh, crap," he muttered.  "I just bollixed everything up!"


	11. Romantic Endings and Other Nonsense

_'Now as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention.__  The only rules that matter are these: What a man can do and what a man can't'--Captain Jack Sparrow; Pirates of the __Caribbean__: The Curse of the Black __Pearl___

_'Do us a favor.  I know it's difficult for you, but just stay here and try not to do anything stupid!'-Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the __Caribbean__: The Curse of the Black __Pearl___

_            'I often wonder if there's intelligent life on any other planet.  I think there must be, because they haven't tried to contact us yet.'-(paraphrased) John Maloney, British Comedian_

_            (Apropos to nothing) ::Girly shriek::  Mom! McDonald's can't balance on a chocolate orange!!!  What were you thinking?!—David Felix, today_

            The tall, lanky man sat at the table with his large, work-roughened hands wrapped around a mug of some dark, rich brew.  He wasn't a good-looking man, but he wasn't ugly, either.  The best one could say for him was that he was 'plain'.  Until he smiled, that was.  His smile was large and open and friendly, warming those who saw him.  He wasn't smiling now, though.  What he was doing was alternating between staring into the depths of the steaming liquid and watching the door to the small shop he was sitting in.  There had been a school owl from Hogwarts waiting for him as soon as he had entered the shop earlier, from the young woman who was causing the unusual uneasiness that was gripping him.  A quick glance at his watch showed that she was late, but the churning in his stomach told him that he wasn't all that eager for her to arrive.  As he looked longingly at his beverage, thinking of taking another gulp, the bell above the shop's door tinkled.

            Catching his breath, he looked up to see the small, plump redhead enter the shop.  Swallowing something between a curse and a sigh, he rose to his feet, smoothed his shop apron, and raised his hand.  This was it, he thought.  Do or die.

            Ginny entered the shop somewhat reluctantly.  She almost wanted to just slink away, but she'd promised the young man who worked here that she'd meet him.  And Ginny needed to talk to him, anyway.  There was something she had to tell him.  When Bob rose and waved at her, a little smile on his face, Ginny took a deep breath and waved back.  Forcing a smile, she straightened her shoulders and made her way to his table.

            The smile he'd given her froze on his face as she approached.  He was now staring at her head.

"Your hair!"

            That was the first thing he could think of to say.  Her long braid was gone and her hair was cut a little shorter than shoulder-length, in a wispy, impish style.  It was very attractive, downplaying the longish nose and bringing more attention to the girl's beautiful eyes.  His breath caught again as she stopped in front of him. 

            Ginny resisted the urge to reach for her braid.  It wasn't there anymore.  That was the 'errand' she'd had to run this morning.  She had thought over and over again about what had happened with Pansy Parkinson, and what Malfoy had said after, in the library.  And even though he was a great git and didn't really give a damn about her, he'd been right.  What was the point in keeping her hair long if she never wore it loose?  It was a great pain in the arse and she was better without it.  But not having the familiar weight of it down her back and flopping onto her shoulder was a little unnerving, just like the way Bob was staring at her.  Rallying her spirits, she pasted a grin on her face and addressed the tall man standing before her.

            "Yeah, I know.  I was kind of used to it, myself.  But this is much easier to take care of, and I think it looks better.  Besides, like someone told me before, I should cut it if I wasn't going to do anything with it."

            He'd been staring at her hair and had even lifted one large, work-roughened hand to her head when her words stopped him.

            "Whoever said that has a big, stupid mouth," he said flatly, dropping his hand.  "The prat at school?"

            Ginny shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now.  "Does it matter?  He was right.  Besides, I like it."  Then her brow creased.  "Why?  Does it look that bad?"

            She'd thought it was an attractive style, but now she didn't know.  Her fears were eased in the next moment.

            "It's beautiful," Bob said honestly.  "I just…it was a surprise!  When…"

            He trailed off, still looking at her.  Now Ginny did reach up to pat at the new hairstyle.  Grinning, she admitted, "I just had it done.  Is it really all right?"

            As though waking from a daze, the man blinked and really looked at her.  Returning her smile, he took her hands.  "Ginny-girl," he said quietly, feelingly, "you were pretty before.  Now you're just prettier.  Want to sit?"

            Ginny allowed him to lead her to a chair, but she tugged her hands gently back as they sat.  It would probably be better to get this over right away, she thought.  She really wasn't sure exactly what this young man's feelings toward her were, but she didn't want him to get the wrong impression.  Even if Draco Malfoy was the most unfeeling git in the world and didn't care for her as anything more than a friend, she had grown to like him very much, and she would not lead this man on, just because she was angry at the annoying Slytherin.  Therefore, before Bob could say anything, Ginny cleared her throat.

            "Um, it's great to see you again, Bob," she said.  "It's always good to see _friends._"

            Not very subtle, she thought, given the emphasis she'd put on the word 'friends'.  He'd noticed as well, since he was eying her curiously.

            "Yeah, it is great to see friends, Ginny-girl, especially when the friends are people who will listen to you when you have something important to say, right?"

            Uh-oh, Ginny didn't like where this sounded like it was going.  She spoke quickly to forestall him. 

            "Yeah, I know what you mean," she blurted out.  "And I have something important to say.  I just wanted to get it out so there aren't any misunderstandings, right?  I just want to--,"

            She got no further.  The man sitting across from her broke in.

            "Look, Ginny, there's something really important I have to tell you, too.  Please just let me say it."

            Ginny bit her lip, but she was determined.  "Okay, Bob, but after I'm done.  I really need to do it straight away, before I lose my nerve.  So, it's like this.  I know I'm probably reading more into this than there is, but I have to tell you that even though I like you, a lot, I care about someone else.  You know?"

            "Ginny, please," he interrupted, but Ginny plowed ahead.

            "We got on really well, you know, at the holidays.  And I really enjoy your company.  But this other boy, not really a boy, actually, but not quite a man yet, and I know I'm babbling, but I really like him, even if he doesn't know I'm a girl, you know?  I just didn't want you to think…"

            Her voice finally faded away when she noticed Bob looking away, his expression bleak. 

            "Bob?"  Ginny reached for his hand, but stopped before she could take it.  "I'm really sorry," she whispered.  "Maybe I should go."

            "No," he murmured, bringing his gaze back to her.  "Not yet.  I still have something to tell you."

            Standing, he paced toward the counter, and then back.  "Just remember," he said when he was standing before her again, "I wanted to go first.  Right?"

            Ginny nodded even though she wasn't really certain why that made any difference.  The man sat again, wrapping his hands around his mug.  He even lifted it, but shook his head and firmly set the mug back down without drinking.

            "Okay, it's like this," he said finally.  "I wasn't completely honest with you before.  I said I worked at the coffee house where we met, but actually, I own it.  I own this one, too.  I was going to open in Paris, but I decided to try Hogsmeade instead, when my manager said he didn't want to move out of England."

            He paused, but Ginny only stared at him with wide eyes.  He _owned_ the coffee houses?  Well, so much for Malfoy's smart remarks about him not having two sickles to rub together.  Even as she thought this, something was niggling at the back of her mind.  There was something wrong.  Something was off about Bob's voice and the way he was talking.  Her brow wrinkled as he continued.

            "Anyway, my family's broke now, but I took the only decent advice my father gave me.  He said to invest in real estate, so I took the small savings I had and I bought the coffee house.  I spent last summer learning the business, but I also found a fellow who knows the business inside and out, and he manages the place for me when I can't be there."

            Ginny still stared, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture. 

Giving her head a small shake, she said, "I don't understand.  I never saw anyone else there.  Just you.  Who is this other person?  And why are you talking different now?"

Bob stood again, this time grasping Ginny's hands and pulling her up.  "It's complicated," he said.  "When we met in London, I was…that is, I…oh, hell, this is harder than I thought it would be.  Just remember, I did want to go first.  So, anyway, I'm not just some coffee-house berk, right?"

Ginny's eyes widened as that phrase echoed familiarly through her mind.  She'd heard something like it before, and recently, too. 

"Look, Ginny, you're going to figure it out soon anyway, so just remember this, right?"

Wrapping his large hand around her neck, Bob pulled her close.  Looking straight into her eyes, he said, "I love you, brat, right?"

Ginny struggled back, shaking her head.  "No, you don't, Bob," she said, almost panicked.  "You don't even know—WHAT?"

Her mouth dropped open as she realized exactly what the man before her had said.  She closed it before saying slowly, "No, it can't be.  You couldn't—he couldn't…not even _he_ would do something that vile!"

Bob took a step toward her, but she retreated, putting the table between them. 

"You just stay right where you are!" she blurted out when he started edging toward her.

"Come on, brat," he said, gripping the back of one of the chairs tightly.  "You can't avoid me forever.  I _did _try to tell you first!  Don't I get some credit for that?"

"Try to tell me what?" she demanded.  "That you made a world class fool out of me?  That you pretended to be someone else so you could humiliate me?  Why would you do that?"

"It was stupid, okay?  I admit it.  I just wanted to, I don't know, see if you really meant what you said about personality being more important than looks.  I thought I'd tease you about it after the holidays.  It was all planned, and then we had that stupid argument.  And then you wouldn't talk to me.  When you finally did, I couldn't tell you the truth."

Ginny glared at him.  "I was wrong," she said hotly.  "You _can_ be that low.  You were laughing at me the whole time!  Every time I—_bleated_ about the argument I had with my _friend_ it must have been killing you not to laugh!  You're—you're—oh, I _still_ don't know a word bad enough!"

Ginny spun toward the door, but she wasn't even half way before he caught her. 

"I wasn't laughing, Ginny," he said earnestly.  "I was kicking myself in the ass!  My manager kept forwarding your letters, and I kept thinking that if I didn't answer them, you'd just forget about the guy you met at the hols."

Ginny struggled but he was just too strong.  "Let go, Bob, or Malfoy, or whoever the hell you are!  If you don't, I'm going to kick you someplace you won't like!"

He only pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her tightly.  "I should have known better," he said as though she hadn't spoken.  "Of course you wouldn't forget.  You're a Gryffindor, after all.  And, damn it, brat!  Stop kicking!  I'm not letting go until you promise to listen!"

Ginny had been trying to get a decent shot at his shins, but he was too close.  She finally subsided.  "All right, I'll give you two minutes," she gritted out.  She had to agree; he was holding so tightly, he was practically smothering her!

Releasing her, he looked at her seriously.

"Whatever it is, though, it better be good, because you are officially number one on my shit list!"

The corner of the large mouth twitched slightly.  "I only have one thing to say, really."

He wrapped his hand around her neck again, as he had before, but before he could speak, he let out a cry and collapsed to the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered.

Ginny stared in horrified fascination as he curled himself into a ball on the floor.  His muscles seemed to be spasming and contorting.  The dark hair began to lighten, and the broad shoulders narrowed.  After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, Draco let out a gusty sigh and lay back.  His eyes were tightly closed and his face still wore a look of pain.

"Good God, Malfoy!" Ginny breathed.  "That looked painful!"

"Hurt like hell," he muttered, still trying to catch his breath.

"Good!" Ginny snapped, kicking him, albeit gently, in the hip.  "You deserve it for being such a pathetic coffee-house berk!"

Then she knelt beside him and brushed the hair from his brow.  "How many times did you have to go through that?"

Draco opened his eyes and smirked at her.  "Worried about me, brat?"

"Not a bit," she stated, returning the smug look.  "I just figured it was poetic justice for what you did to me.  So how many times?"

He struggled to sit up, wincing at the residual soreness from his recent change in form.  When he was sitting next to her, he shrugged.  "Every day at the hols, except the last day, when I didn't see you.  Today.  That's about it.  Not something I'd like to make a career of."

Ginny considered this.  "I assume it was you who sent me that letter today.  Why did you write, then, if you were hoping I'd just forget about you—Bob—whoever?" she finally asked, frowning.

"It was stupid, I know.  My ego, I guess.  I couldn't believe that you were still talking about someone you met months ago and who never wrote back to you.  I just knew you'd come and tell me that you'd told him to get lost.  I never expected you to—."

He broke off suddenly, giving her a hard look. 

"What?" Ginny demanded.

"Would you have really 'snogged his brains out'?" Draco asked suddenly.  "Some berk you only met once?"

Ginny's cheeks flushed but she replied steadily, "If I wanted to, of course I would have."

"But _did_ you want to?"

"Look, Malfoy," Ginny snapped, standing.  "You went out of your way to be Mr. Charming over the holidays.  Don't start getting all high-and-mighty because your charm actually worked.  If I'd known it was really you in there…"  The sentence trailed off as she moved toward the door again.

Draco scrambled to his feet and quickly blocked her exit.  "If you'd know it was me in there?  Then what?"

"Then, it doesn't really matter, does it?  You were trying to prove that looks and money are more important that a person's personality, but you didn't prove anything, did you?  And, at any rate, it backfired, didn't it?  You played a rotten trick on me and now it's over.  I'm leaving.  Now, move!"

She would have shoved past him, but he grabbed her arm.  Ginny must not have wanted to leave very badly, because she didn't struggle.  Draco took that as an encouraging sign.

"Look, brat, I know what I did was pretty low.  But I learned a lot about you when you didn't think you were talking to 'the enemy'.  So I'd do it again if I had to."

Ginny looked up into his face, wondering at the lack of his usual smirk.  He'd done something really underhanded, but it hadn't really hurt her, had it?  Suddenly she remembered what he'd said earlier.  Worse, she remembered what _she'd _said about caring for someone else.  Flushing hotly, Ginny looked away.

"I think I'd better go," she said quietly. 

"Hang on," he said.  "Just one more thing, and then I'll let you go."

He pulled her with him to the table, and then lifted a small bag.  Taking a book from the bag, he handed it to her.  "You left this in the library," he said.

Ginny saw that it was the romance novel she'd been reading that morning, with the letter from 'Bob' still inside.  She looked up.

"Ginny-girl," he said softly.  "I liked calling you that, you know?  It fits you better than Weasley, but not as well as 'brat'."  He couldn't help smirking again when she wrinkled her nose.  "Anyway, I know this isn't what happens in your romance novels," he reached to cradle her neck again, tugging her closer.  "But I _do _love you.  And I'm sorry I tricked you.  So if you meant what you said earlier, about caring about someone else…"

He trailed off again, seeming lost.  Ginny swallowed.  She should be angry, really she should, but how could she be with him looking so good and standing so close and saying such lovely things?  But she couldn't make it _that_ easy for him.

"Actually, I was talking about someone else," she said quickly, shaking off his hand.  At his skeptical look, she continued.  "I meant, uh, Neville Longbottom!  He's really a very nice fellow, you know.  And a much better wizard now he has his own wand!"

"That's it!" he said, advancing on her.  "You're a scheming, sneaking, lying brat and I don't know what I see in you!  You know you were talking about me.  Now tell me you love me too, or I'll have to do something drastic and very like those trashy novels you read!  Or maybe I'll just have to turn you over my knee and spank you like the brat you are!"

Ginny took offence at his threat, but he had his hand around her neck again and was pulling her closer.  Placing a hand on his chest, she held him at arm's length.  "Conceited, much?" she said, giving him a smug look.  "You know exactly what you see in me, Malfoy.  I _am _scheming.  I'm as sneaky as you and I don't let you bully me the way everyone else does.  And I don't fawn over you.  And don't ever try to threaten me, Malfoy, or I might have to hex you!"

"You would, too, wouldn't you?" he whispered, smiling. 

"I've done it before, haven't I?" she shot back, but she was smiling, too.

"That you have," he agreed.  "I suppose that means I'd better not let you go long enough to pull your wand."  He pulled her even closer and wrapped his arms around her.  "So, Ginny-girl, am I forgiven?"

"Do I get free coffee if I forgive you?"

"Only if you kiss me," he replied, moving to brush her mouth with his. 

Ginny pulled back only slightly, her eyes dancing with amusement.  "Oh, well, if I must!"

The bell over the door rang, but neither Ginny nor Draco really noticed.  They didn't notice when three seventh year Gryffindors entered, curiosity drawing them into the new shop.  They didn't even notice the shocked gasp their amorous embrace elicited from all three students, but most especially from the tall red-haired young man.  He fisted his hands and considered pulling out his wand, but decided against.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered to his companions.

The young woman nodded, her eyes drawn from his rigid face to the disgusting sight of Ginny Weasley kissing Draco Malfoy and back, but the other young man hesitated.

"But Ron," he said urgently, "it's Ginny and _Malfoy!_"

Ron dragged his eyes away and gave his friend a slightly sick look.  "Yeah, and look how miserable she made me when I tried to tell her she couldn't be his _friend!_  Forget it, Harry.  I'll just owl Mum and let her handle it."


End file.
